


All Your Favorite Spots

by poetzproblem



Series: Don't Blink [28]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Light Bondage, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far, most of the fantasies that Quinn had verbalized have involved having Rachel in various positions in various locations around both their apartments and in Rachel's dressing room—fantasies that have been thoroughly fulfilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Your Favorite Spots

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** A Smutty Valentine to my readers. Part of the _Don't Blink_ series, set after _Just Give Me A Little Bit More_ and before _The Only Place I Wanna Be_.
> 
> Light bondage with mentions of a strap-on in case that's not your thing. There's no plot here.
> 
> As always, thanks and cyber-hugs to Skywarrior108 for being an awesome beta.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Glee_ or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

_Don't you just love the feeling of my fingertips,_  
_circling your lips?_  
_Don't you just love the desire taking hold of you?_  
_I can tell you do._  
_I know all your favorite spots,_  
_and tonight we will connect the dots.  
_ _~Connect the Dots, The Spill Canvas_

_xx_

She blames this entirely on the strap-on.

Well, obviously, her current predicament was not directly caused by the strap-on. After all, one little (or not so little) piece of blue silicone couldn't possibly have put her into this state all by its inanimate self. No—it's the occasional wearer of said strap-on that had done that.

Rachel is choosing not to acknowledge at this particular moment that the occasional wearer of the strap-on only occasionally wears it at Rachel's request (and, in fact, isn't even wearing it now).

But because the strap-on was put on the table (and on the bed and against the wall), Rachel is now strapped _down_ to the bed.

But really, she should probably start at the beginning—which would be four nights ago.

_xx_

Rachel collapsed face first onto the mattress, boneless and spent and sore in the most delightful way. She heard the rip of Velcro from somewhere behind her, muffled and distant through the thrum of her own still racing heartbeat, and then the bed shifted as the slick, naked weight of Quinn's body settled along her back—noticeably lacking the strap-on harness and dildo that she'd used only moments ago to thoroughly ravish Rachel.

The warmth of Quinn's breath caressed Rachel's shoulder a second before her lips settled there to bestow a gentle kiss. Rachel sighed in pleasure, her heart rate finally beginning to slow to a more normal pace while Quinn's fingertips idly traced the contour of Rachel's ass. Quinn's mouth curved into a smug smile—Rachel just _kn_ _e_ _w_ it was _smug_ ; she could almost envision it—against Rachel's skin.

"I take it my lady is satisfied," Quinn teased, the low purr of her voice sending little aftershocks of pleasure dancing through Rachel.

"Very," Rachel managed, digging down deep for the energy to turn her head to the other side and catching a glimpse of damp blonde hair for her effort. "You are getting really good at that, baby," she murmured.

Quinn chuckled against her shoulder. "Naturally. I'm good at everything," she bragged playfully before scraping her teeth over Rachel's flesh in a gentle love bite.

A breathless laugh slipped past Rachel's lips. "And so modest," she teased, managing to push her exhausted body off the mattress just far enough to reposition herself onto her side facing Quinn.

Quinn didn't seemed fazed at having been so unceremoniously dislodged from her comfortable position sprawled partially over Rachel's back, and she easily settled next to Rachel with a satisfied smirk. "Isn't that usually my line?" she questioned playfully as she idly reached out to stroke her fingertips along Rachel's collarbones, lightly snagging the thin, gold chain that rested there before gently fingering the delicate heart-shaped pendant secured at the end of it.

Rachel smiled lovingly at her girlfriend, releasing an agreeable hum. "Thank you for my birthday present."

Quinn returned Rachel's smile, eyes sparkling with happiness. "I'm glad you like it," she said softly, letting her hand fall away from the necklace that she'd given Rachel only a few hours earlier. Her actual birthday was tomorrow, but they were celebrating tonight because it's Sunday, so Quinn wasn't working, and Rachel didn't have a performance that evening.

"I love it actually," Rachel assured her, reaching up to briefly touch the pendant that Quinn had only just released. It was simple but beautiful—a heart with a single turquoise gemstone set into the curve. "But I already thanked you for that," she reminded Quinn with a sexy smirk. "I meant wearing the strap-on again. I know it's not your favorite thing."

Quinn shrugged a single shoulder. "It's kind of growing on me," she admitted before an adorable grimace appeared on her face. "But not literally…because _ew_."

Rachel laughed at that, wrinkling her nose. "Definite _ew_ ," she agreed, shifting closer to the tempting body before her. "You know…if you ever want to try something…else."

"No," Quinn responded quickly, that one eyebrow arching sharply as her lips curved into a mild frown. "No more toys, Rachel. The one we have is more than enough."

Rachel quietly sighed at Quinn's reaction—only slightly less obstinate than it had been the last time the subject had been broached. She had hoped that Quinn would be more agreeable now that she'd experienced some of the positive aspects that came with trying different things in the bedroom, but she reminded herself that Quinn was still only beginning to get comfortable with the strap-on.

"I don't mean toys, per se," Rachel clarified, reaching out to curl a palm over Quinn's hip. "I just meant…like the vegan chocolate syrup we tried," she recalled with a grin, thinking of the fun they'd had cleaning each other up. "Or…you know…when you…um…you had me sit…you know…" Rachel stammered inelegantly.

"On my face?" Quinn supplied helpfully, lips quirking into a devilish smirk.

Rachel bit into her lower lip, feeling her skin heat at the memory of kneeling over Quinn and gazing down the length of her own naked body to see burning hazel eyes feasting on every part of her while Quinn's mouth was busily doing the same to one, very specific part. "Yeah. That," Rachel whispered.

Quinn's smirk verged on arrogant. "It's weird that's the one thing you can't seem to talk about without stuttering."

"It's weirder that you can," Rachel fired back, blushing. She couldn't help it—something about that position always seemed to leave her completely flustered.

"I can talk about anything you want inside our bedroom," Quinn pointed out in amusement.

The heat on Rachel's skin rocketed to her belly at Quinn's casual mention of _our bedroom_. Technically, it was Quinn's bedroom, but Rachel loved thinking of it as _theirs_.

"So you'd tell me if you have any particular bedroom fantasies you want to fulfill?"

"I would. I have, haven't I?" Quinn questioned with a thoughtful expression.

"Some," Rachel conceded, though so far, most of the fantasies that Quinn had verbalized have involved having Rachel in various positions in various locations around both their apartments and in Rachel's dressing room—fantasies that have been thoroughly fulfilled.

Quinn's tongue darted out to moisten her lips before her teeth scraped along the pink flesh in a nervous habit that Rachel had come to recognize. "You…you're not…getting bored," Quinn asked anxiously.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel chastised, pressing her hand more firmly into Quinn's hip until hazel eyes met her determined gaze head on. "You will never, _ever_ bore me," she insisted, letting her hand wander higher until it rested just beneath a perfect breast, "especially in the bedroom." Sex with Quinn had been a revelation—Rachel couldn't imagine that her desire for Quinn would ever wane. "You've been so good to me, baby." In ways that Rachel hadn't even bothered to imagine that she'd been missing out on. "I just want to be good to you too."

"You are, Rach," Quinn assured her with a sweet smile.

Rachel offered a smirk of her own, trailing a fingertip around Quinn's nipple. "I can be better."

"I don't think I'd survive it," Quinn husked, stretching a leg across the sheets until it snuck between Rachel's thighs enticingly. The leg was quickly followed by Quinn's mouth sliding against Rachel's, coaxing her into a sensual kiss that left her instantly wanting more, despite having been thoroughly debauched mere moments ago.

When Quinn finally pulled back, there was a captivating sparkle in her eyes. "But...since you brought it up," she drawled thoughtfully, "there _is_ something that I've thought about from time to time."

"And what might that be?" Rachel urged—giddiness bubbling up inside of her at the possibility of fulfilling one of Quinn's fantasies.

Quinn ran her tongue across lips that were soon curving back into a sexy smirk. "How do you feel about…silk scarves?"

A picture popped into Rachel's head without her consent, but it was decidedly not sexual, and Rachel found that the image of Quinn in a yellow sweater and silk scarf was just stuck there now. "I quite like them…on you," Rachel replied absently. "I find that they don't really suit me as well, but if you'd like me to wear one as some sort of roleplay…" It was kind of an odd fantasy, but she wasn't one to disappoint her girlfriend.

Quinn laughed delightedly, shaking her head. "Rachel, I don't want you to _wear_ it," she corrected with a grin. "Not exactly anyway.

"Oh," Rachel breathed—the innocent picture in her head disappearing in a puff of smoke. "You…you don't want to gag me, do you?" she questioned meekly, worrying her lip. As much as she wanted to fulfill Quinn's every fantasy, she wasn't eager to have anything shoved into her mouth that wasn't—well, _Quinn_.

Quinn reached up to run her thumb over Rachel's lower lip, gently persuading it away from the abuse her teeth were inflicting. "No," Quinn assured her. "I wouldn't ask you to do that."

Rachel exhaled a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. I don't think I'd like that at all."

"Neither would I," Quinn admitted, mouth quirking into a teasing grin, "surprisingly enough."

"Funny," Rachel accused with a playful smile, tweaking Quinn's nipple in mild punishment and earning another laugh from her girlfriend. "So…do you want to blindfold me?" Rachel asked. That could be kind of sexy.

"Maybe," Quinn answered vaguely, "but I actually have something else in mind."

Unless Quinn wanted Rachel to perform the dance of the seven veils, there was really only one other thing she could intend to do with the silk scarf. "You want to tie me up," she realized.

"Only if you'd be okay with it," Quinn promised.

The thought of being restrained fell somewhere between the blindfold and the gag for Rachel, but she trusted Quinn completely, so she nodded her agreement. "I'm definitely amenable to the experience."

Quinn's eyes darkened, and she licked her lips in a very predatory way. "Good. That's good," she murmured before connecting her lips to Rachel's in a heated kiss that Rachel was more than happy to return.

Before she fully realized what was happening, Quinn had her on her back and pinned to the mattress. Quinn slid her fingertips down along Rachel's arms, gently circling her wrists and urging them up over Rachel's head. "I can't wait to have you like this," Quinn purred, holding Rachel's wrists immobile as she pressed her thigh more firmly into Rachel's sex.

Rachel moaned appreciatively, becoming instantly more enamored with the idea. "You know," she managed to say a little breathlessly, "I am a little surprised you want to use scarves. They kind of count as a toy, Quinn."

"I think they're more of a prop really," Quinn disagreed before nipping at Rachel's jaw.

"So actual handcuffs would be a prop and not a toy?" Rachel challenged playfully.

Quinn lifted her head, arching an eyebrow. "Why don't we start with the scarves, and then maybe we'll talk about handcuffs?"

"I believe we'd have to buy those someplace like Babeland," Rachel pointed out with a wicked grin, knowing how uncomfortable Quinn had been the last time they'd gone there.

"Don't push it, Rach," Quinn warned, "or I might reconsider the gag."

Rachel had no response to that—mostly because Quinn knew a much more effective way to keep Rachel from talking, and she employed it to perfection.

_xx_

And that brings them back to the present moment—Thursday afternoon, December 21st, the day after Hanukkah, four days until Christmas—less than two hours after Quinn Fabray had waltzed into Rachel's apartment with a colorfully wrapped "Christmukkah" package held between her hands that contained three, gorgeously patterned, magenta silk scarves.

Rachel's wrists are now tied with two of those scarves in surprisingly firm knots and secured to her conveniently slatted headboard—spread-out before a smirking, half-naked Quinn like a sacrificial virgin. She can't deny that the overall effect is incredibly erotic, but she also can't ignore the quiver of apprehension racing along her spine at being so vulnerable. She's completely at Quinn's mercy—Quinn, who had wasted no time tying Rachel up the moment she'd stripped her naked and urged her onto the bed, and who is now kneeling over her in red, boy-cut panties, twisting the third silk scarf around her hand in a distracted manner as her eyes rake over Rachel's body.

"Perhaps we should choose a safe word," Rachel suggests, lightly tugging at her bindings again.

Quinn's smirk instantly softens into concern. "Are they too tight?" she asks, reaching down to check the slack around one of Rachel's wrist.

"N-no," Rachel admits, calming at the gentle touch of Quinn's cool fingers against her pulse point. "But it doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"I'm not going to torture you," Quinn assures her with a roll of her eyes before she pauses, grinning wickedly. "Well, I _am_ ," she admits, trailing her fingers down Rachel's arm on a direct path to her breasts, "but only in the best possible way," she promises, scraping a blunt nail over Rachel's nipple.

Rachel squirms at the contact, inadvertently tugging at the scarves again. Not being able to touch Quinn is definitely going to be torture. "I trust you, Quinn. But as we are technically engaging in bondage, a safe word would be considered prudent."

Quinn's eyebrow inches up. "Isn't that something that should have happened before we got started?"

Rachel feels her face heat. They'd already discussed to some degree what Rachel would and wouldn't be comfortable with before they'd started with the foreplay, but the possible need for a safe word hadn't really occurred to her until she was actually tied up and feeling completely defenseless. "It slipped my mind."

Quinn chuckles softly, still circling her fingertip over Rachel's right breast. "What's your safe word?"

Licking her lips, Rachel considers this for a moment while Quinn continues to slowly leave a trail of heat between her increasingly sensitive breasts. "Pippin," she decides.

Quinn's touch stills on her skin, and her eyebrows furrow adorably. "Pippin? Seriously?"

"Yes. Seriously. It's a long-running, Tony award winning, Broadway musical, Quinn, but not one that I'd ever otherwise mention during sex."

"I'm a little concerned that you think you might mention _any_ Broadway musical during sex."

"Well, there was that time the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ came up in the shower," Rachel reminds her.

Quinn giggles at that. "Fine. Pippin, it is," she agrees, letting the scarf in her hand unfurl enough for the silken end to slide over Rachel's skin. "Now where were we?"

Rachel trembles a little at the sexy drawl of Quinn's voice in combination with the feathery touch of the scarf against her skin. "You…you need to pick one too," she rasps.

Quinn pauses again. "I'm not the one tied up."

"I'm only being thorough. You never know where the evening will end up."

"You know, this isn't exactly the way I imagined this fantasy playing out," Quinn quips, amused.

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispers guiltily, averting her eyes. "I…I guess I'm just a little nervous," she admits. "I know you would never hurt me, but it's a little disconcerting to be essentially trapped and unable to move."

Quinn sighs, slipping down lower on the mattress so she can comfortably look at Rachel as she gently caresses her cheek. "If you're really uncomfortable, we can stop. I'll untie you."

"No," Rachel insists. "I don't want to stop. I trust you," she repeats firmly.

Quinn smiles softly before brushing a kiss over Rachel's lips. "Tolstoy," she announces when she pulls back.

Rachel frowns. "What's Tolstoy?"

"My safe word," Quinn informs her.

Rachel grins. "Of course you'd pick a depressing Russian novelist."

"Rachel, sweetheart?" Quinn drawls.

"Yes, Quinn?"

"Stop talking," she orders firmly.

"Yes, Quinn," Rachel agrees demurely.

The smirk is instantly back on Quinn's face. "That's better." Propping herself up again, Quinn pulls the scarf across Rachel's breasts—the silk gliding sensuously over her hardening nipples. "You look so enticing like this," she comments idly, lifting the scarf again and skillfully twirling it around itself. "Tied up like a present, just for me."

The smoky timbre of Quinn's voice vibrates through Rachel, and she shifts on the mattress—wide eyes fastened on Quinn and the predatory gleam that's appeared in hazel eyes once again. "What are you going to do with me?" she asks breathlessly.

A slow, wolfish smile pulls at Quinn's lips. "I think I'll let that be a surprise," she teases, gently draping the scarf over Rachel's eyes.

Rachel gasps as the world turns magenta. "Quinn?"

"Is this okay?" Quinn whispers close to Rachel's ear, the unexpected tickle of breath making Rachel shiver.

"Y-yes," Rachel breathes, lifting her head slightly to allow Quinn room to tie the scarf around her head. She can feel Quinn's skin slide against hers and sure hands securing the scarf, and then familiar lips cover hers in the softest of kisses before they're gone.

Unable to move her hands or see anything, Rachel can only feel. The mattress shifts beneath her, and the warmth of Quinn's body seems to disappear. Her stomach flips over. "Quinn? Baby?" she calls out, feeling her nerves rattle again from the sensory deprivation. In the darkness, Rachel's ears become hyperaware of every little noise—footsteps against the floor, the creak of that one floorboard near the door, the soft rustling of fabric—and her heart begins to beat faster.

"I'm here," Quinn assures her huskily.

The mattress dips again, and there's a fleeting sensation of something tickling across her breasts again, but Rachel can't tell if it's Quinn's fingers or her hair or something else. She arches her back, turning her head in the direction she imagines Quinn to be. "What are you doing?"

A throaty chuckle tickles her ears. "Torturing you."

That sensation tickles against her breasts again—almost like the silky feel of the scarf from earlier but even softer; lighter. It trails down over her stomach in a slow path, swirling around her navel, before teasing at the sensitive flesh between her legs. Goosebumps erupt on Rachel's skin, and heat begins to pool at her center, making her wet. "Sweet lord, what is that?"

"Just a little stardust for my star," Quinn croons as she curls a palm over Rachel's hip and the soft tickles against her clit increase in speed. Rachel sucks in a hard breath, rolling her hips up in search of friction but finding nothing except those feathery touches—each one making her body feel even more alive.

The sensation begins to travel higher again, and Rachel lets out a whimper at the sudden absence of it from where she needs it to be. But oh—it's back at her breasts, first the right and then the left, leaving tingles of pleasure in its wake. It's so unbearably soft and delicate, but everywhere it touches seems to send electricity singing over her skin, and she twists on the bed, tugging at her restraints.

"Oh…Quinn…that…that feels…so good…"

A quiet chuckle reverberates in her ear. "That's the point," Quinn murmurs seductively.

Her left nipple is encompassed in soft, wet, heat, and Rachel groans, instantly recognizing Quinn's mouth and tongue against her flesh. The soft tickle of whatever it is Quinn has in her hand is still playing against her other breast, and her hips begin to rock against the bed, searching for friction. Quinn presses a leg (or some part of her body) over Rachel's right thigh, stilling her movements to a degree, and Rachel whines in protest.

That maddening whatever it is drifts down again, teasing over Rachel's hip, and the warmth of Quinn's mouth closes over her right nipple, teeth delicately tugging at the flesh. Rachel's back bows as she practically comes off the bed. "Holy fuck," she grits out. Her breasts have never felt this incredibly sensitive before. "What are you doing to me?" she demands between panting breaths.

Quinn releases her nipple, only to blow on the damp rigid flesh until Rachel shudders. "I told you," and Rachel can hear the smirk in her voice, "I'm torturing you in the best possible way."

"Please…" Rachel begs, tugging at her restraints again as she digs her heels into the bed—needing to grab Quinn and physically put her hands and mouth where Rachel wants them to be.

"That's not your safe word," Quinn teases, shifting her body away from Rachel nevertheless.

Rachel groans in frustration, and then she moans because Quinn has moved that torture device back between her legs, teasing up and down her inner thighs, following the path of it with curious fingers, before stopping to linger over her lower lips—tickling at Rachel's clit which is now throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

"I want to see what you're doing," Rachel pleads, turning her head against the mattress.

"I'd rather you just feel it," Quinn husks—and oh God! Rachel can feel the heat of Quinn's breath against her sex, and she opens her legs wider in anticipation. The tickling sensation disappears, quickly replaced by a very familiar feeling as Quinn's tongue swirls around her clit.

The heat in Rachel's belly blossoms unexpectedly, and she cries out, nearly coming right then from the unexpected stimulation. Whatever Quinn had been teasing her with had left her so much closer to the edge than she'd even realized.

She hears what sounds like the click of a tongue before Quinn tells her, "No. I think that'd be too quick."

Rachel nearly cries. "Quick is good," she argues pitifully.

Quinn's answering laugh shakes the bed, and Rachel can feel fingers trail up her sides as she registers Quinn's body moving higher over her. Rachel shakes her head and tries to catch Quinn with her legs to keep her in place with no success. "No. Please… I want your mouth on me."

There's a gentle bite on her hip—little spikes of pleasure radiating out from it—and Quinn's mouth curves. "Like that?"

Rachel squirms beneath her, gritting her teeth. "You really do want to torture me, don't you?"

Quinn chuckles again. "I do," she admits—satisfaction evident in her voice. "I like having you completely at my mercy." Another sensuous nip pinches the skin of Rachel's belly, making her hiss, before it's followed by the warm press of a tongue.

"Please…" Rachel gasps again.

"And I love it when you beg," Quinn voices sexily.

"Quinn," Rachel whimpers, helpless to do anything but submit to the slow, tortuous journey of Quinn's mouth and tongue and teeth and hands as they travel all over her body—hips and belly and breasts. Rachel's skin is still alive and sensitized from whatever Quinn had been doing to her before, and with her eyesight gone, all of her other senses are heightened beyond belief. Her clit is throbbing, sending little waves of pleasure into her belly every time Quinn's body inadvertently shifts against her, and she actually thinks she might be able to come without being touched directly—especially if Quinn keeps working her up so masterfully.

One of her legs is caught between Quinn's—she knows because she can feel Quinn's wetness against her thigh, and she takes a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that Quinn isn't unaffected by her own seduction—and Quinn's hip or belly or _something_ is pressing so close to Rachel's sex but just far enough away to keep her from getting any friction where she really needs it. Rachel tugs at the scarves again, wishing they'd come loose so she could _do something_ to end this teasing.

"I need you," she whines, lifting her own thigh up in the hope that she can push Quinn into finally satisfying the both of them. The only response Rachel is aware of is the slight tensing of Quinn's legs against her. If Quinn has any other reaction, Rachel can't see it, and Quinn stubbornly refuses to moan or whimper or even gasp as her tongue laves at Rachel's neck just over her thrumming pulse.

"How badly do you want to come right now?" Quinn asks wickedly.

"So badly…Quinn… I'm so close," she confesses brokenly. "Everywhere you touch feels like a livewire against my skin."

She barely finishes speaking before Quinn's mouth is over hers—that talented tongue slipping into her mouth and making silent promises that Rachel prays she'll keep. Quinn shifts over her again, sliding higher, and a hand presses against the inside of Rachel's thigh, urging her legs open even more, just before Quinn's body presses into her in the most heavenly way. Rachel can feel all of Quinn—her breasts flush against Rachel's breasts, their bellies aligned, and sweet Barbra on stage! When Quinn settles between her legs, reaching down to spread Rachel open, Rachel knows exactly what she's feeling when Quinn moves against her.

"Quinn!" she gasps, canting her hips up into the indescribable feeling of Quinn's wet heat, flush against her clit. They've only tried this a few times, and while it's felt really good, it's never seemed to be enough for either of them to get to the finish line, but now—

"I'm gonna come," she warns Quinn desperately, straining against her ties. The way Quinn had expertly played her body—teasing her with feathery touches and leaving her begging, and the blindfold and restraints making everything feel even more intense—have made Rachel so ready that she already feels her orgasm swelling with just a few clumsy thrusts. The hard nub of Quinn's clit brushes against her own—once, twice, three times—and that's all it takes for Rachel to arch hard into Quinn, screaming her name as her body quakes with intense waves of pleasure that seem to originate from her center and gain intensity everywhere Quinn's body touches hers.

The world goes dark for a moment—or she thinks it did—because the next thing she's aware of is Quinn's breasts swaying near her eyes, which are now free of the blindfold, as Quinn works open the knot of the scarf on her left wrist.

"Mmm. This is a nice view," Rachel mumbles drowsily.

Quinn pauses her actions, glancing down at Rachel with a concerned expression. "Oh, good. I didn't break you," she says lightly, but Rachel can hear the underlying worry in her tone.

"Finish untying me, and we'll find out for certain."

Quinn stares at her for a moment before moving to place a soft kiss to Rachel's lips. "You scared me a little bit," she confesses quietly, swiftly turning her attention back to freeing Rachel.

"It _was_ a scarily intense orgasm," Rachel quips with a satisfied grin, sighing in relief when her wrist finally comes free. She drags her arm down the mattress while Quinn turns her attention to the other wrist, and Rachel tries to lift her hand to touch Quinn, but she finds that she doesn't really have the energy. Her entire body feels heavy and exhausted, and her muscles are quivering.

"But a good intense?" Quinn checks, bringing Rachel's other, newly freed hand down from above her head as she gently massages the mildly abused skin of her wrist.

"My God, Quinn," Rachel exclaims, gazing at her girlfriend. "I think I'm still experiencing the aftershocks." It's true—little spasms of pleasure are still pulsing through her body.

A mildly smug smile paints Quinn's lips as she settles more comfortably next to Rachel. "Well, you didn't use your safe word, so..." she trails off with a shrug.

"What did you tease me with anyway?" Rachel wants to know.

Grinning, Quinn reaches across Rachel's body, picking up a small wand with a ball of fuzzy, pink feather at the end from the mattress. "Feather," Quinn explains.

Rachel's eyes widen as she stares at the innocuous looking instrument of torture that had set her nerve-endings on fire. "That's…? Quinn, that's a toy!" she exclaims in surprise.

"It's more of a prop," Quinn argues doggedly, ghosting the feathered tip over Rachel's breast again and making her shiver.

"And where did you get that _prop_?" Rachel asks accusingly, mustering up the energy to move her hand so that she can catch the feather—removing it from her over-stimulated body before it can drive her crazy again.

Quinn averts her eyes, taking the hint and tossing the feather back onto the bed. "That's not important."

"Did you go to Babeland?" Rachel wants to know.

"No," Quinn denies guiltily before finally sighing in the face of Rachel's obvious disbelief. "I went to Eve's Garden," she admits. "It's more...discreet."

"You bought a sex toy...at a sex shop," Rachel repeats, incredulous.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's a _prop._ I read about using a feather to stimulate your lover and thought it might be fun," she raises an eyebrow, smirking a bit, "and it certainly proved to be."

"It did," Rachel agrees. "But more importantly, _you_ enjoyed using it," she points out.

"You know, saying _I told you so_ isn't really attractive," Quinn informs her, but there's no bite to it. She looks perfectly content to have been proven wrong about the usefulness of toys—because that's exactly what that feather is.

Rachel grins. "I didn't say it."

"But you're thinking it."

"I'm only thinking how much I love you," Rachel murmurs softly.

Quinn smiles at her, reaching up to stroke her wrist again. "I love you too, Rach," she breathes, snuggling into Rachel's spent body and tangling their legs together. "Thank you for letting me tie you up."

"It was my pleasure," Rachel responds with a giggle—even though not being able to touch Quinn had been frustrating, the reward had been so very worth it. "Oh," Rachel breathes in sudden realization. "You didn't get there, did you?" she asks with a frown.

"Don't worry about that," Quinn dismisses easily. "I got what I needed from the experience."

Rachel's frown deepens, not entirely believing her. She could feel how aroused Quinn had been before she'd been flung into her own mind-blowing climax. "I…can't really feel most of my body right now, but if you want, you could…um," she lifts her hand and gestures to her face, "you know…"

Quinn laughs, quirking an eyebrow. "Sit on your face?" she supplies helpfully.

Predictably, Rachel's skin heats in response to the image. "Yeah."

"Later, sweetheart," Quinn promise, tucking her head into the crook of Rachel's neck as she hugs Rachel closer to her. "Right now, I'm pretty content just like this."

Rachel sighs in silent agreement, letting her eyes flutter shut. She's so much more than content. She's perfectly happy and completely tied up with the wonderful woman curled into her side, and she blames it entirely on Quinn.


End file.
